A Yoga Side Effect

There is an unlooked for side effect of doing yoga. It is an awareness of my thoughts, often not very nice or healthy thoughts. Thoughts that shame or depress me. Thoughts which lead to actions that were better left unacted upon. It isn't that before yoga I was blissfully unaware of my less than shiny thoughts, I was but it was easier to let them slip under the radar unexamined. Now the general tone of my thinking is cause of concern. (Two blue faced honeyeaters have just enjoyed an intimate moment in the poinciana tree just outside the window). Isn't there a quote about the unexamined life not being worthwhile or something like that? Thinking, always thinking, is really living life with my eyes closed. One of the eight limbs of the Yoga Sutra is pratyahara or turning the attention inwards. I don't think that means thinking. When I wake up in the morning I now notice, where I didn't before, how I immediately vacate myself from being by turning my attention to the surface of the thinking bubble. I must do this and this and this and what about that and so forth. It's as though I've put myself in a rocket and shot through to another galaxy far far away. Now I am starting to catch this runaway rocket and turn it around. Whoa! Stop, be and breathe. Yes, there's the bird song, there's the pressure of my body on the bed, there's my breath and oh, surprise, there *I* am.

That's a start but soon of course I'm away, behaving and thinking from habit and therefore thinking, saying or behaving in a way that is not in a sense, true. It's a daunting task to learn mindfulness and in my weak moments, I don't believe I am up to the task. Not only in my weak moments but most moments of the day when I am not mindful and therefore unaware. Despite the seemingly insurmountable mountain before me I suspect that the way to peace and serenity lies in that mindfulness, of living life examined breath to breath.

Then there's the act of measuring. With our literal logical minds we are always weighing up, comparing, labelling, dissecting and defining. Somehow in all this the essence of the thing is lost as is the person doing the measuring. I went to an art date a week or so ago. Enjoyed the day but in reflecting upon it later I noticed how much I compared things, not only the art work but the people, the environs. What good does this do? Of course the measuring is all in relation to me and the idea of what is good that I have formed (based on what shaky foundation - there's a dissertation in that!). In some things the ideal is exceeded, in others it is not met. I suppose it's another way of asking what is truth. It's all in the perception and what's true for Richard, with his colour blindness in blues and greens for instance, is not true for me. If reality is just different vibrations of packets of energy than the truth is fluid and only fixed when it is observed and compared to the past experiences of the perceiver. So a truth that is only fixed by observation and defining is no truth at all Is that part of the reason why we should "Judge not, that ye be not judged"?

The End of the World

Dreamed about the end of the world. Knew it was coming in the form of an atom (or hydrogen) bomb which would be detonated just a few miles up the beach from where I was living. Wilma and other people I had some kind of history with were also there. It was some kind of meeting place. There was an operations centre with computers and phones and lots of energy, even with the knowledge that nothing could be done. I was trying to get online to blog a last post but was unable. We were allowed to *take* three things. I only remember a blue marble, roughly carved, bird.

As can be imagined the feelings aroused by this knowledge ran the gamut from fear to acceptance, from frantic useless energy to a kind of glazed ennui. I wanted to be with the horses. I was sorry they were going to pay for human stupidity. The helplessness was what grated.

Then I was walking along the beach, a beach that resembled Four Mile in Port Douglas, when there was a flash in the distance. This is it, I thought. I love you God, I thought and waited to be obliterated. But I wasn't. I woke up.

And thought why did I say I love you God as my last thought. Was it a plea to be noticed and saved? Was I sincere or just bargaining? And why these disaster dreams? The Mayans predicted the end of the world in December 2012. December 21 to be exact, the day of the summer (or winter) solstice. There was some religious quack who predicted the end of the world this year. His followers sold or gave away everything they had in preparation. Oddly enough, the world did not end and the leader has slipped into obscurity. One wonders why perfectly normal people would believe such a man especially as he'd predicted the end of the world once before and was proven wrong. But then end of the world predictions have a history as long as mankind has looked up at the night sky and wondered.

Perhaps this disaster dream is a plea from my subconscious to make my life memorable rather than coasting along thinking I have all the time in the world. I don't but we all think we're immortal. Logically we know we are going to die but we live our lives as though we'll live forever. Having said that I best go make the bed and clean the cat litter trays.

NB:  Why I can't make paragraphs in the final cut is beyond me.  Something to figure out another day.

Good day today as opposed to yesterday when I was tired, uninspired and headachy. It is the difference between if not night and day, day and dusk. I don't understand why I succumb to such days. I'm sure I'm not alone. I wasn't sick per se yet for all that I accomplished I may as well have stayed in bed with a good book. Anyway, today, despite little sleep I feel great. Have worked on the new drawing and after an unpromising beginning it now has a little life. I will take it to the next Art Day. Last Thursday I met Karen and Caroline for a day of art and conversation. Spent the first hour cuddling a cockatoo which is always a good way to start a day. Sully, a young female, is a delight. If I stopped massaging her head she would gently take my fingers in her beak to remind me of my obligations. Karen finally took her away and put her in her cage. I think I was as disappointed as Sully. I was over caffeinate unfortunately and am sure I talked too much. I don't like to regret actions and I do regret it when my mouth opens and closes with little of substance coming out. Three cups of coffee before noon is more than I can handle. But no one has contacted me to say Thursday has been cancelled

Lazy Sunday afternoon. Today's a good day, a happy day. Yesterday, not so good. Nothing happened just blah and tired and headachy. The difference between, if not night and day, at least day and dusk. Why are we so susceptible to, what? Moods? Physical health? Planetary configurations? Woke up happy and enthusiastic and have stayed that way. Researched bitless bridles on the net (already have one made from an old endurance rope bridle with nose band added by the expertise of Peter) and watched you tube pieces on Parelli, Mark Rashid and clicker training.

Going out today, for a social event no less. Me, who doesn't go out. Yoga and grocery shopping, that's about it. KL rang, she and C having an art day at KL's house today. Would I like to come? We've met twice before, once for a trip to the art gallery in Brisbane, another time for a get together such as this one. I wasn't prepared and didn't get much done. Did a sketch of a cockatiel and played with K's cockatoo. Today I'm organized as I'd already started a bare bones sketch from an idea I'd had. Blue inked the whole sheet which had the ink dragged drop spots on it. Stared at it a bit but the idea had nothing to do with what may or may not be seen in the paper, it came while trying to meditate. Anyway, of course the idea is far better than my ability to convey it but I'll give it a bang and see. Jack is loving his new home. Since Crock and Irene have moved out the others have been released from the tiny territories they were confined to by Crock's tyranny. Jack is interacting with all of them and screaming insults at the wild birds.

Dreamed I saw a UFO. It was such a realistic dream that I think I can let go that dream of seeing a UFO. A dream and a dream. Funny, eh? It was dusk. I was at a ranch taking last orders from the boss about fattening a cow, *his* cow and advertising her sale. The sky was an odd colour, that clear green blue tinged with yellow sometimes seen before a storm. The country was flat. There were street lamps at the inbetween stage of flickering on and flickering off. Higher in the sky there was another light. At first I took it for another street lamp as it too was flickering on and off except it wasn't flickering, it was fading in and out. And it had a halo, as though observed through fog. Just as it was starting to dawn on me that this was no streetlight, two fast moving yellow lights (same colour as it but brighter), popped into existence in front of the larger light. I knew then they were no ordinary lights. Suddenly all three lights streaked at an angle toward the horizon and were gone. Except for working on a ranch and taking orders about a fat cow, the above could be a real description of a UFO sighting. It certainly felt real enough. Perhaps it's a premonition. A few nights ago I dreamed of seeing a black and silver passenger jet crashing to the ground on a neighbour's land. We were driving home and I'd just been pleasantly surprised to find my little car had a cruise control button. We crossed the bridge, looked up and there it was, upside down and falling nose first. It exploded on impact. We drove into the paddock to help and saw the victims, mostly unhurt, walking to the road. No one wanted to be taken to the hospital. That night, on one of SBS foreign news feeds (Polish? Russian?) footage was shown of a jet, probably at an air show plummeting to earth and bursting into flames. The pilot ejected before impact. But enough of dreams. Jack is gone. Peter and Gabi came and got him on Sunday. I've been haunting the computer looking for an email from them to tell me how it's going. They moved the troublesome couple into their own marital quarters. Crock was the one who chewed Jack's toes. He is a very jealous and cranky bird. There are four birds left in the big aviary, none of which have big bruiser personalities so hopefully Jack will find someone to befriend to fill the hours while Gabi is gone. Two of the four birds are a bonded pair. The king parrots here are quite tame and very demanding. Yesterday morning one almost landed on my head so keen was he to let me know that if I didn't put out seed RIGHT NOW he was going to die of hunger. They hang upside down off the gutter to grumble at us. One even followed us half a mile up the road to tell us there was no seed. Richard had topped up the afternoon feed because of their complaints but still they griped. One swore at us from the banana tree. Right, I said. You want seed? Earn it! I put seed on the palm of my hand and held it up. Damn if he didn't, after some consideration and a few false starts, fly to my hand to eat.

The Smallness of Being

The sun rises earlier as spring ages into yellow summer. I wake with the birds. I may not always get up. We've had noisy fast moving storms over the past few days. After the last storm cell strode across the sky to the east, herding deserter clouds before it, it was desert weather. Crystalline skies, no summer haze, no, thank god, smoke haze. Cold. Coming outside this morning in shorts, as a tribute to spring, and a padded jack, from necessity. Sun hadn't touched the mountain yet. Silver dew on the grass. Horses, kept in overnight, erupted through the gate and galloped across the paddock, even Drifter, who gallops less and less these days. Finished the chores and tacked up the whippets for their morning constitutional. Like a brace of chariot horses they tugged me along the drive. Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Part call of nature, after all they must hold their bowels and bladder from 9:30pm until the following morning, part the dog's natural enthusiasm for everything that doesn't involve vets. Sometimes, not often enough, I am struck anew by the beauty of the country. Not any country, but *this* country. Australia, yes. Queensland, yes. And this little dead end dirt road that follows the long narrowing valley into Paradise. Sometimes I can make myself see familiar things with new eyes, sometimes, with more joy, the newness is impressed upon me from without. This was one of those mornings. The dogs know I will walk as far as Bird Hill, a natural rise with trees on both sides of the road that is a bird corridor between the mountain and the juncture of two creeks below. There we stop, look and listen. All three of us. At first I am trying to identify bird calls; dollar bird, grey butcherbird, fig bird, black butcherbird (beautiful!), crow, double bar finch and then I stop. There is too much carolling, piping, squeaking, yodelling. It is just sound, a symphony of sound. All those dark shiny eyes, those quivering throats giving a voice to what it is to be alive. The very air vibrates with it. I vibrate with it. My heart seems to burst and for a moment, just a moment, I leave behind the minutiae of being and just Be. Then the moment passes and I shoulder the shell of Me-ness, the thoughts, the lists, the naming, the continuous internal dialogue returns and I and the dogs return with it, to home and breakfast and chores and the smallness of being.

Jack

Jack is going to live with Gabi. I am so pleased. Ever since he came to live with us he has been yearning for Gabi. When she visits he is Mr. Friendly and screams long and loud when she goes. At first I thought it was Peter he missed as Peter is the one with the knack for cockatoos. Last night proved without a doubt that Jack loves Gabi. They'd come for dinner, champagne and beer, a sort of routine we've got into when they can visit, but with less junk food than before (they are a very good influence!). We sat around the island bench while I prepared the food and talked. Jack, despite the dark, shouted, yelled and screamed without letup. I'm pretty easy going as far as noisy cockatoos go but Jack hardly stopped to draw breath and it was annoying...except to Gabi. "I kind of like it," she said. Huh? After dinner I slipped outside for a smoke. Jack was still yelling so I turned the light on under the gazebo so he could see to climb onto the standing perch which he did without hesitation. I carried him to the kitchen window and although part of him was wary (there are cats in there!) he looked happy to be finally gazing at his beloved. Peter came out to say a cautious hello followed by Gabi. And that was it. Jack climbed onto her arm, preened her arm, nuzzled into her sweater, gazed adoringly at her face with that soft expression which only sulphur crested cockatoos in love can make and generally proved to the best of his ability that Gabi was his Lady Love and if we didn't see that and let him go live with her than we were cruel, inhumane and completely stupid. So it's settled. Gabi was willing to take Jack last night but Peter thought it best to prepare one of the aviaries for him, either the huge but disused bat creche or the smaller but closer to the resident cockatoos aviary. Frankly, as Jack does not attempt to fly, ever, even when he thinks he's in mortal danger, a large aviary is wasted on him. But that's for them to sort out. Part of me is a little sad for although we've had our moments, Jack is such a significant person, that we will not but notice his absence. No more "Hello Jack!' each time we walk past. No more afternoon grazing. No more of those searching direct looks he gives that are so full of meaning yet indecipherable. I will miss him but I am so glad he is going to be with his One True Love.

Had a terrific session with Balthazar last night. I let myself get too stressed about a less than perfect training cycle. Should be less hard on myself and give both of us TIME. Have always wanted everything perfect straight away. Comes from living the good life all my life. Spoiled. Anyway, Balthazar was much better. Yes, I did have to up the pressure to get him to trot but once he was trotting the glitches smoothed out. We had better departs, he even gives a little jump in the front to start the trot. Not quite a nano-rear but he has to use his hindquarters to do so and anything that gets him off the front end and onto the back is a good thing. One problem we do have, which we've always had, is his very visible excitement in the pizzle department. Why carrots are so arousing is beyond me. Sometimes when being ridden with lots of carrot reinforcement he even begins to 'sound' like a stallion courting a mare before the coup de etat. He's not quite so bold on the ground but he does nicker alot and stay visibly excited, to the point where trot departs are impossible because it is out and interfering. I've tried to join the click that teaches on Yahoo groups but haven't heard back yet. Wonder if other people have this particular phenomemon and if so, what they do about it. Drifter was the same. Don't remember that Dakota or Pagan were much of a problem. I mean, they are all gelded. That sort of thing shouldn't happen, although I do see them enjoying themselves occasionally. Anyway, we just have to work around it. Once it's been withdrawn is the best time to work on gait changes. Just hard (no pun intended) to give alot of reinforcement for good work without it rearing it's ugly head (pun intended). Peter suggested I try licorice as a treat. Wow, what a revelation. Balthazar became quite predatory. He watched like a hawk when I game some to the others. Drifter, as usual, stuck his nose up and said I'm not having any. Pagan and Dakota were equally pleased. Balthazar however, was in Mach III Enjoyment Mode. Would be nice to use it as a c/t treat but as it's chewy it takes too long. Will use it as a jackpot piece for a job really well done. Haven't written anything on art. Have about finished the work started with the ink dripped onto wet watercolour paper. It's a but busy and I'm not entirely pleased with it but it's been a good learning process. There are parts I quite like, images half seen which are brought out but because the images are from chance, there's no cohesive theme that I could find and make work. It's a hodgepodge. Used ink, chalk and oil pastel, pen and coloured pencil. Think I've done all I can with it. Time to start on something else, what that might be I have no idea. But have to do something. I'm always better in myself when I've got a project going. I don't want to move but part of me would love to have a small private studio. A place where I could make a mess and leave it. Where I could spread out and breathe. Oh, and large enough for a stereo and a yoga mat.

Dapples and Termites

For the first time since I've had him, Balthazar has dapples. Not huge, not gaudy but definitely there. Have had him on Pat Coleby's Natural Horse Care diet for about three weeks. I put the blame squarely in Coleby's court. Whatever magic ingredient he was missing in the expensive Equilibrium he's getting from the basic ingredients of Coleby's recipe.

And yes, we have termites. Our 100+ year old Queenslander has had her defenses breached. Richard had gone beneath the house to check the floorboards of our bedroom. We're going to get it sanded and polished. While there he discovered they'd built a bridge from the stump OVER the metal stump cap and onto the wood. They have eaten through five VJ boards. That we know of. Now that we know what to look for it's obvious. Painted boards with ripples and waves. When you touch them they give under pressure. A lot. Pest man comes today.

Got very discouraged with myself and Balthazar on Friday. I seemed to be back to my old tricks as did he. In the rut I didn't want to be in again. Resolved I would just work on one thing, that the problem is I wanted him to do this and this at the same time which only confuses him.

In clicker training the behaviour is offered and rewarded. The trainer sets it up so that the behaviour occurs without coercion, ie pressure. Think of the dolphins. And Dimitri. Couldn't force Dimitri to retrieve, I had to reward small increments of movement which added, finally, to him picking up the object and dropping it in my hand. With Balthazar on the end of a line, there is already pressure. He can't choose to do the behaviour because he is constrained to a circle with me at the center.

For instance, asking for a trot. The other day we had wonderful departs, quick and decisive. On Friday we dribbled into a trot or only walked faster. I resorted to slapping the end of the line on the ground. That got the sought for response but as soon as I did it I regretted it. I used pressure and fear to get what I wanted. Which is what I don't want. He got stressed. His sheath was squeaking and again he was holding, not chewing the carrots. Time to quit and regroup.

Also, we still have the problem of him spiralling in on the circle. I have to use pressure, alot of pressure to get him away. That was what I was going to work on, that one thing, getting him to sidestep away from me with pressure but reducing that pressure until it was only a small movement from me that would get him out. But I had little success.

What was worse was that he walked away from me when I went to halter him. Sure sign he's not enjoying the sessions. And he should. The whole point is that he should.

So what will I do differently today? The KISS method. Keep to what works and what he does well. Stop at any sign of stress. High rate of reinforcement. If he wants to change direction on the circle let him and reward that as a test for that seems to get him 'up' and motivated. We can always stop that later if it gets to be a problem (she says confidently). That will have the added advantage of getting him working off his hindquarter which will build muscle and topline.

Had an excellent 15 minutes with Balthazar yesterday afternoon. Having 24 hours to think about what we'd attempted the previous day seemed to help him work it out. There was one exercise where I place my hand on the halter between his cheek and muzzle and gently push his head away from me so that he eventually executes a turn on the hindquarter (an awkward way to do it but I think the exercise is just to instill a feel and a sensitivity to pressure). When Peter was here, Balthazar bobbed his head, swung it to the ground, swung it high, everything but just follow my asking hand. That was where Peter said I should bump his head with my hand (closed as a fist) to get him to move but I think that would've made things worse. He was obviously not comfortable with following the feel so best to just stay with him using an even pressure, as even as I could keep it anyway given that he was swinging his head all over the place. That was Tuesday. Wednesday I asked and he quietly followed my lead and swung his head around until he did a turn on the forehand, or part of one. I didn't push my luck and ask for too much. I rewarded what he offered. He did the same on the other side.

One thing I noticed which is something I need to work on is Balthazar's sensitivity. Yesterday afternoon was cool, not cold, not warm. By the time I'd walked Balthazar to the arena he was hot to touch. A few minutes more and he was starting to sweat on his flank and chest. The 15 minutes of c/t involving some turns, some longeing, a few changes of direction on the longe, a tiny bit of full pass (couldn't believe he remembered it), a couple of turns on the hind and fore quarter and some backing up, was done calmly and with many rewards. So although he appears calm on the outside his anxiety is betrayed by the fact that he is breaking into a sweat. The only thing I can do is continue to work him with the same patient and calm attitude. In time he should trust that nothing bad (me losing my temper and whacking him with the end of the lead rope) will happen. His anxiety is my fault. How can he trust someone so untrustworthy? My modus operandi has been cool calm collected with flashes of temper peppered sporadically throughout. I feel guilty about this but I'm not going to beat myself up for 'when I know better I do better'. And it didn't happen all the time just often enough to make him sweat when he comes to the arena.

Working on patience is paying off. Didn't realize how ingrained the habit of asking him to do something else before he'd finished chewing the reward carrot was until finding myself starting to ask for another behaviour. Now at least I'm catching myself.

Yesterday he stayed out on the circle better and his trot departs were snappier. It pays to work on one thing with lots of reinforcement. It writes a clear message.

Natural Horsemanship Play Date using c/t

Good day today. Peter rang this morning to ask, seeing that it was such a perfect spring day, could he bring Emmy down and we'd have a Natural Horsemanship play. For the first time Balthazar ran away when I went to get him but I think it was the excitement of having a strange horse in the yards. He wasn't hard to catch. Cleaned both horses up and took them to the arena. Peter helped me with the preliminary 'games' to assess the readiness of the horse to work. Balthazar was a bit 'up' at first but soon settled. Emmy, an old hand from many camps and much practice at home, was unfazed by the strange surroundings and strange horse. Peter helped me with some problems, specifically Balthazar spiralling in on the circle. Also, going through the games gave me some homework. I did use c/t during todays session. I don't want to bump him, as Peter suggested when I was attempting to get Balthazar to give to a turn on the hindquarter. I want to just use consistent pressure and when he gives, to reward that give. Balthazar did pick it up so I'm very pleased. Also, I don't want Balthazar to disengage his hindquarter to stop on the circle. He is too ready to face me already. I want him to stop on the circle, ideally bent to the same degree on the circle when he halts as when he's is going.

Certainly I don't have the xperience of Ken Falkner or Pat Parelli and am probably wrong in attempting to do things my way but I want everything I do on the ground to be relevant when I am on his back. For example to halt when walking beside the horse, Ken advises asking them to give the head *away* from the handler. There's something else too whether it's a tug on the lead or what I don't remember, I just remember thinking I wouldn't be riding the horse and asking him to move away from my hand flapping at his eye. I've been walking parallel, saying whoa and raising the hand with the lead rope, trying to duplicate from the ground what Balthazar would 'feel' when I was riding (plus using the voice of course). So that's what I did. It's not Faulkner, it's not Parelli but until I can see the sense of asking him to give way to a flapping hand, it's what I'll do. If he learns the commands through clicker training, it's not so much 'giving to pressure'. He can learn everything he needs to know with a reward as the goal to have an attempt at it.

Instead of asking for a complete sloppy circle of turning on the forehand or turningn on the hindquarter, I would ask for one good step and reward that. Because we moved on to other exercises I didn't attempt to perfect them. I just wanted the basics to practice when Peter's not around. I can look for improvement when we practice solo. I truly believe c/t is a far superior method of training. Giving to pressure works but what's in it to motivate the horse? Why should he try for you?

Unfortunately Balthazar was lame. Not badly. It only showed up at the trot on the circle as a bit of unevenness. Still, he's been 'spelling' for two years so I'm not sure what else to do. It's the same hoof that had the abscess but that's long ago now and shouldn't be affecting him. Could find no swelling or heat in leg or hoof. Of course I don't have hoof testers so can't tell if it's the hoof or not. The lameness is very minor yet I don't want to ride him when he's not right. Took the saddle down and thought if everything went well I'd have a ride on him.

Peter is goingn to modify my old endurance bridle, made of lightweight nylon, so that I can attach reins to it. He took Balthazar's measurement (above the muzzle). Riding with this modified bridle will give clearer signals than riding with the knot below a regular rope halter like a pseudo bosal.

I didn't realize I missed horses so much. I fed them every day, turned them out in the morning, patted them, checked them over for problems, sometimes groomed them, especially in the spring when they are losing their winter coats, but otherwise I hadn't interacted with them for such a long time. Now I'm excited, looking forward to going bush, riding in company (Peter's got an old friend, also a horseperson who is keen to trail ride), and just spending special time with my special horse.